


Revolution and Civilization, in step

by KChan88



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KChan88/pseuds/KChan88
Summary: Enjolras and Combeferre share a moment after Le Cabuc. A small contribution for Logic and Philosophy week on Tumblr.





	

Combeferre realizes he doesn’t see Enjolras anywhere.

“Where did he get to?” Combeferre asks, more to himself than anyone else.

“He went to the back of the barricade,” Prouvaire says, still standing beside him. “I suspect to be alone, though I’m not sure that’s what’s best right now.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Combeferre says, offering his friend a smile. “I’ll go look for him.”

“I’m sure your reassurance would be especially welcome,” Prouvaire says, reaching out and pressing Combeferre’s hand again, still warm from how long they’d stayed clasped together as Enjolras shot the man who killed the shopkeeper. “He values your opinion so highly, you know.”

“I know,” Combeferre answers, voice low, running his thumb quickly across the back of Prouvaire’s hand before letting go. “I’ll go search him out.”

Combeferre only searches for a few minutes before he finds Enjolras near the back of the barricade as Prouvaire indicated, hidden in a small nook where two pieces of furniture that might have once been chairs come together, creating a small overhang. Enjolras’ hands rest on either side of his head, fingers threading through his blond hair, gaze directed ahead, focused on something Combeferre cannot see. Even as Combeferre steps directly in front of him, it takes Enjolras a moment to notice. He stares for a second, unfocused, then jolts, taken by surprise.

“Combeferre,” he says, a kind of relief in voice, but doesn’t continue.

“All right?” Combeferre asks, stepping closer but not all the way into Enjolras’ space, sensing something is wrong.

“I’m fine,” Enjolras says, but as he smiles tightly up at Combeferre, it’s clear he doesn’t believe his own words.

“May I?” Combeferre asks in response, gesturing at the small space, where there’s just enough room for another to sit hidden on the paving stones.

Enjolras nods, and Combeferre sits, side pressed to his friend’s, creating a warmth. Quiet rests between them and Combeferre waits, giving Enjolras the chance to speak first.

“I had to kill that man,” Enjolras whispers, voice still solid, sure as it always is, but cracked with a new ache Combeferre’s not sure he’s heard before.

“I know,” Combeferre says, but Enjolras doesn’t seem to hear him, twisting his fingers in anxiety.

“What he did absolutely could not stand,” Enjolras continues.

“Enjolras…”

Still, Enjolras doesn’t seem to hear, his normally clear, crisp words mashing together in a determined but still uncharacteristically frantic string.

“He killed that man for absolutely no reason, and I will not have anyone on this barricade killing simply because someone wouldn’t assist us,” Enjolras says. “That is unacceptable, and I could not allow him to do such a disservice to that man’s life or to stain our cause that way. We are held to a higher standard than those we fight exactly _because_ we are making way for change, I…”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre repeats a third time, reaching out both hands and stilling Enjolras’ fingers. “I know. I know, my friend. You did what you had to do.”

Enjolras stops, meeting his eyes, his breathing evening out at Combeferre’s words.

“You are not angry at me for it?” Enjolras asks.

“Enjolras, no,” Combeferre says, holding Enjolras’ hands tighter. “Even if I disagreed with something that took place here, something that you did, I understand the complexities of the matter too well to be angry at you. But you had no choice here. You said it yourself; a terrible necessity.”

Enjolras studies him, the familiar blue eyes still lit up with that belief, that hope that Combeferre looks to when even his own deep well runs dry. Then he reaches out, wrapping his arms around Combeferre, fingers pressing into the fabric of his friend’s waistcoat. Combeferre returns the gesture, pulling Enjolras close, one hand reaching up and toying with the blond curls at the nape of Enjolras’ neck.

“I didn’t want any of you to have to do it,” Enjolras says, words muffled against Combeferre’s shirt. “I knew I _could_ do it.” He looks up, hands sliding down and resting in the crooks of Combeferre’s elbows. “That is not to say that I think any of you incapable of anything I…”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre says, touching the side of Enjolras’ face, gentle. “None of us would ever think that. You took on that burden for all of us. For _everything_. I know it hurts, because how could it not? But I understand. We all do.”

Enjolras smiles at him, and this time it brighten his eyes, even if he still looks a little sad.

“How do you settle me so?” Enjolras asks, sliding his hands down further until they grasp Combeferre’s, interlacing their fingers.

“A talent I am happy to possess,” Combeferre says, sincere, a hint of his usual wryness in his voice, and it draws Enjolras’ smile out further.

“Thank you,” Enjolras replies, looking more himself, some of the color coming back into his cheeks. Something glistens in his eyes, the words coming out with a tremor, with the idea that they may not survive the day. “For grounding me, for widening my path. For everything.”

“And to you, my dear friend,” Combeferre says, holding Enjolras’ hands tighter. “For reminding me to fly.”

Enjolras raises Combeferre’s hands, pressing a light kiss to his knuckles before letting them go.

“Just don’t fly _too_ close to the sun,” comes a third voice, and Combeferre smiles at the sight of Courfeyrac. “Unless you could invent some wings that don’t melt, Combeferre. I believe if anyone could, it’s you.”

“Quite true,” Enjolras agrees. “Everything all right?”

“We were just looking for the two of you,” Courfeyrac says. “Come join us?”

“Of course,” Enjolras says.

Enjolras and Combeferre rise, and Courfeyrac links all their arms together, leading them back toward their friends.

 


End file.
